11 August 2009

High School Reunion

Saturday night was the reunion. It was, in a word....surreal. For one thing, I kept thinking, "Can you guys believe we are old enough to DRINK?! Shouldn't somebody be running up to SA with a fake ID to buy Purple Passion and Bartles & James wine coolers?!" (Bonus points if you actually remember SA before it turned into whatevertheheckit'scallednow!)

I noted quickly that time tends to sharpen the edges. I noticed a LOT less clique-adge. More people were moving with great fluidity between social groups.

I also noticed that people only knew me in the context of "being Amy's friend". As soon as I said, "I was friends with Amy R." I would see the flash of recognition. I suspect that if I had spent the reunion sitting alone at a table on the periphery of the room with my face buried in a notebook writing my sad poetry....they would have said, "OhYEAH, now I know who she is!"

I spent much of my high school career as Amy's sidekick, the person whose job it was to make her dates laugh while she went to the bathroom and put on make-up.

If I had a dime for every. single. time I heard, "Amy, your friend Cyndi has such a great personality" (which, as we all know is code for "nice to talk to, not exactly Date Material") I would be a rich woman indeed.

I still can't believe that the people I went to high school with are this old.


Prior to the reunion I had lunch with my brother Dennis. I told him that I was starting to feel a little nervous about going to the reunion. He said,"well, as long as you don't go with your hair looking like that it should be fine." I explained to him that I had already "done my hair". (If you can call washing and putting gel in hair "doing your hair".) He said,"but it looks like it's just wet. It looks like you have gel in it, like it's "fake wet".


I attempted to explain to Dear Brother that my hair currently has two settings:

1. Dry and frizzy


2. Fake wet gel from hell

That's it. I understand that while we were growing up I had that silky baby-fine straight hair, but after Baby Number Three my hair became curly and rebellious.

I know not why.

All I know is that when I don't put gel on it young children run screaming and villagers end up chasing me with torches and pitchforks.

I didn't want to ruin the reunion.

I had to use the gel.